The birthday
by python is good
Summary: Murdoc's excited for his 41st birthday that his band mates had planned to make up for the previous year. But when he recieves some awful news, his plans are thrown into chaos
1. Chapter 1: another day, another argument

Disclaimer: Gorillaz are owned by Damon and Jamie. I also can't bring myself to finish that Yoishiro comes to visit story: I just have too many story ideas I really wanna write. .

It was exactly two days before his birthday when Murdoc Nicalls found out the awful news.

This particular morning began when he rolled off the bed in the middle of a dream about a palace filled with an endless supply of alcohol and many beautiful women. His eyes fluttered open only to find that he wasn't laying on top of naked supermodels or swimming in sweet smelling wine and instead laying on extremely rough carpet.

Murdoc then let out a slight grunt of disappointment and rose to his feet.

"_Today," _he thought, _"will be a good day" _and why wouldn't it be?

His 41st birthday was two days away, after all, and his band-mates were apparently planning something big to make up for his lackluster 40th.

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, the bassist began to notice the typical signs of aging in his face: his eyes were surrounded by tiny, subtle wrinkles and his small sideburns had specs of light gray. Even his belly, which had always been slightly plump, had grown larger. He didn't care though: as long as he had money, beautiful women, and his precious Black Sabbath, he'd be happy for years to come.

Once in the kitchen, he found Russell reading the paper while Noodle and 2-D were picking at their meal of pancakes and toast.

"Good morning Amigos!" he announced as he sat down and put his boots up on the table.

"nice to see ya, Muds," Russell muttered, "but get your feet off the table, will you?"

"Did you sleep okay?" 2-D asked as he stabbed at a bit of pancake.

"Oh yeah, just had an odd dream last night, that's all." Murdoc then cleared his throat and asked, "You guys know it's my birthday on Wednesday, yeah?"

"You've told us." Russel replied, clearly annoyed by this question.

"We've heard you a hundred times in the past week." Noodle added.

"Actually, I think he's told us about twenty times." 2-D said.

"It's a figure of speech, dullard." Murdoc spat as he got up to get some coffee.

"I'm sorry for nagging, lads," he then replied, "I'm just excited because"

"Yes," Russell interrupted with an look of furious irritation, "we know your birthday last year was absolute crap." He then sighed. "You know, you've been acting this way all week. Maybe you don't deserve any birthday."

"The world doesn't revolve around you." Noodle added.

"C'mon, without me, you'd all be starving to death in the streets!"

2-D then rose from his chair.

"Compared to bein' in "your" band, that option actually sounds tempting."

He turned to leave when the robotic loudspeaker announced. "phone call for Mr. Nicalls. Please head to the studio."


	2. Chapter 2: the phone call

Chapter 2

"Hello?"

"Murdoc," a scratchy voice replied, "something happened."

He recoiled, recognizing the all too familiar caller.

"H-Hannibal, is that you?"

"Of course it is," Hannibal growled, "that's not important though."

"What is it then?" Murdoc asked his sweaty hand gripping the phone.

Hannibal fell silent for a moment.

"It's mum.. s-she's gone."

Murdoc put the phone down and stared at the wall. "I knew it." He was silent for a minute or two before he returned to his brother

"Hannibal?"

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"What happened?"

There was a pause as Hannibal collected his thoughts. "Well, first of all, the local hospital called a week ago to tell me she had been admitted for pneumonia. I called you, but you didn't answer."

The bassist rubbed his neck, trying to think of an explanation. "Ah, well, I was out at the time and..."

"And what?"

"I was busy!"

An audible sigh echoed through the phone. "Come on, I know you have caller id and probably thought I was just begging for money, right?"

"Oh for Satan's sake, don't bring this up!" he growled as he grabbed a cigarette from his pocket. It was times like this when smoking really helped.

"I know you hate me for pestering you, but you're the only family member I have."

Oh god, not the guilt trip. He did this practically every time he called.

"and as crazy as it seems, you've helped me a lot." Hannibal continued.

"How?"

"I spent it on food and things."

"How insightful." The bassist muttered under his breath as he took another puff.

"What did you say?"

"Ah, nothing, so when's the funeral?"

"We probably won't have one."

Murdoc couldn't help but slightly feel better after hearing that statement: Hannibal was the only relative he was on speaking terms with, but he hadn't spoken to him in years.

"Well, if we aren't having a funeral, do you have any plans next week?"

"Dunno, why?"

"My friends are holding a birthday party for me cos I turned 40 last year, you're welcome to come."

" You mean the Gorillaz group? Christ, you know how I felt about that Dirty Harry song; totally noisy shit and the video gave me a damn headache."

Resisting the urge to utter a blazing insult, Murdoc grunted in annoyance. "Listen, I know you aren't interested in the music, but we're a pretty friendly lot."

There was a long pause on Hannibal's end until: "All right, I'll come."

"Great, you can come at 10:00, okay?"

"Fine, bye."

Murdoc then hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen where Russell was at the table, working on a crossword puzzle.

"Hey muds, what's another word for emblem? It's five down and six words."

"It's symbol." He muttered, plopping into the seat at the far left end of the table.

"Ah, thanks." The drummer then noticed his solemn frown. "What's wrong, man?"

"Russ, my mum's dead."

"Holy- w-what happened?"

"She was just old and demented." He replied shrugging sadly.

"Is there a funeral?"

"No, but Hannibal's coming to visit."

"Didn't he come here once to beg for money?"

"Yeah, but" Murdoc stared at the window facing the giant landfill with a sense of doubt now filling his mind. Why was he inviting a man who had tormented him for most of his adolescent life?

"But what?"

"He's family."


	3. Chapter 3: Morning

A/n: the lyrics to Iron Man belong to Black Sabbath.

Murdoc licked his long finger and slid it along the smooth, red leather seat. "Ya like my motorbike, babe?" He then flashed a toothy grin. "Wanna ride?"

The busty biker lady smiled and ran her hands over her fuzzy green mohawk. "I'd love_" a loud squawk suddenly drowned out her response.

"Cortez!" he snarled as he shooed the raven away with his bed-sheets. He cradled his head in his hands and sighed heavily. Russell must've sent the damn bird as a wake up call. Then, there was a knock on the door. Groaning, he marched across the room to answer it.

It was 2-D standing in a faded t-shirt with a sleepy and irritated expression.

"Oh god, don't tell me you're waking me up for a special birthday breakfast or some rubbish."

"Er, it's 4:00 in the morning; I was just coming to ask if you could quiet that hawk down."

"It's a raven!"

"All right, fine. Just go back to sleep, you still got five hours."

He nodded and quickly slammed the door

"Thank god." He muttered as he returned to his bed, hoping his dream would pick up from where it left off.

Fortunately, it evolved into something even better than before: he sat on a giant throne of animal skulls while being gently caressed by thirty or some beautiful young ladies. One leaned over and cupped her hand near his ear.

"Tell me what you want," she cooed, "anything at all."

Murdoc grinned and whispered in her ear. She nodded and knelt down to undo his belt. A quiver of anticipation ran through him followed by immense pleasure. Oh yes, this was what he'd been waiting for his whole life! What joy! What bliss! Wait a second.

He lifted his head from the pillow and blinked a few times. Something didn't feel right. Was the warm pleasure he felt actually a bed wetting accident? He hopped to his feet and felt around his mattress with his hands. Thankfully, it wasn't damp. Unfortunately, however, he couldn't get back to sleep, so with a heavy sigh, Murdoc grabbed his copy of Helter Skelter and headed to the itchen porch for some reading.

Although he had read it numerous times, he was always fascinated by Charles Manson's escapades and even a bit envious of his ability to attract followers. If he just possessed that dangerous, admirable charisma, he wouldn't need this two-bit band to conquer the world!

"Can't sleep?" a voice intoned causing his arms to flinch in panic. He then looked up and saw that it was only Noodle.

"Oh Noods, it's just you "

She smiled. "What's wrong? You seem nervous."

"Ah no, you just startled me."

"Why are you up so late?"

"I guess I'm just worried."

"About tomorrow?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Well, you've been quieter and mellower than usual," She sat down next to him. "I'm sure Hannibal is very nice. It's just been a while."

Murdoc stared out at the giant landfill and sighed. "Maybe, but I still remember all the times he broke my nose. What if he holds a grudge?"

"He cared enough to call you about you, didn't he?"

"Only because I'm the only family member left."

"Don't worry about tomorrow. You have us to back you up."

"Thanks," Murdoc rose from the chair and stretched, "I think I can rest easier now."

"I'm going to bed myself. Good night."

"Good night."

"Running as fast as he can,

Iron Man lives aggaaaaaaaaaaaain!"

Murdoc's hand slammed his bass as he croaked out the last two lyrics of the Sabbath tune. Nothing could spoil his mood today, it was his birthday which meant he could drink and chain smoke until his immune system gave out. Suddenly, he heard 2-D shout: "Muds! You awake yet?"

He kicked open the door with a scowl. "Yes I am, dullard, you can stop banging on the window now."

"Oh okay, just checking. You better get dressed. Russel's going to pick up Hannibal from the train station in about an hour."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." After slamming the door, he went to study himself in the bathroom mirror.

Hesitantly, he grabbed the unused toothbrush and toothpaste beside the sink and slowly spread his mouth open. Whap! The toothbrush and toothpaste dropped to the floor as Murdoc recoiled from the dreadful state of his mouth. It was too inhospitable even for bacteria! After trembling in terror for a few minutes, he picked up the toothbrush and toothpaste in his shaking hands and began the harrowing task.

After ten minutes of brushing and scraping the grime from his teeth, he stood over the sink, heaving with exhaustion. He did it, he defeated the ungodly horror.

"Murdoc, today!" Russell shouted outside his Winnebago.

"I'm almost ready! I need to thrown on some clothes." Once he chose the first shirt, pants, and socks that were in his line of sight, he dashed out the door.

"What took you so long?"

"Augh Russ, it was horrible, I don't want to discuss it."

"Let's just go, all right?"

"What about breakfast? Did I miss it?"

"We're having brunch when we get back. Now can we go or is this gonna turn into a press conference?"

Murdoc rolled his eyes and followed the drummer to the main lobby.

"Sure you can fit behind the wheel?"

Russell slammed the door and started the engine. "Shut your mouth."

"I was just asking."

He stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, preferring to stare out the window and watch the mysterious woods slowly transform into a mix of flashy and historical London architecture. As the insipid radio chatter droned on and on, fear weld up inside him. What if Hannibal had panic attacks? What if he punched him upon seeing him? What if he hated his guts?

Suddenly, the car slowed to a stop as a train horn blared in the distance. Then, Russell uttered those three dreaded words.

"Murdoc, we're here."


	4. Chapter 4: Trouble brewing?

Murdoc flashed a toothy grin as he arrived at the bench where his brother sat, smiling humbly as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets. He was a bit leaner and looked, admittedly, a lot healthier compared to the bassist's frumpy appearance.

"Hello there Hannibal, haven't seen you in a while."

"Hey there yourself, stranger." He pulled a lighter from his coat pocket. "Got a cigarette?"

"Ooh, sorry, I smoked the last one. I have tons back at home though."

Hannibal laughed. "Excellent."

"Hello, you must be Hannibal." Russell greeted, holding out his right hand, "I'm Russell."

"Pleasure to meet you, Russell." He then spotted the jeep. "Nice car!"

Murdoc slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door with a smug expression. "Thanks, I picked it out myself." Russell just glared at him.

"Muds, do you have to brag all the time?"

"Ah don't worry about it," Hannibal put his hands behind his head, "he gets it from me."

The drummer rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm and groaned. "Oh terrific. Just what we need, another Murdoc."

"Hey! You keep telling me to be courteous. Why can't you do the same?"

"Yes, all right, my apologies." He grumbled, but he was drowned out by Murdoc's loud, vulgar profanities at a particularly slow driver.

Meanwhile, 2-D and Noodle were playing Majong to pass the time.

"What if they drove off the highway and landed in a snowbank and got imprisoned by a crazy nurse?" 2-D wondered, staring out the window with a worried expression.

Noodle smirked. "That was a movie, 2-d San."

"Oh yeah." He then grinned as he plucked last two matching tiles off the board. "I win!"

Suddenly, the door slammed shut. "Oh kiddies, guess who Uncle Murdoc brought home?"

"Satan?" Noodle asked, racing towards the door.

"A prosti-oh." 2-D was cut off when he saw his formal looking older brother.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and leaned aside to Murdoc. "Did that guy almost call me a prostitute?"

Murdoc chuckled. "Aw it's nothin, he's just a bit slow." He then went and put an arm over the very nervous singer. "Hans, this is 2-D," he then pointed a long finger over to Noodle who was trying to look formal despite her personal frustration at the informal introduction.

"Hello to both of you." Hannibal greeted.

"So, Mr. Niccals," Noodle suddenly asked, trying to restore a bit of formality, "Would you like a tour?"

"That'd be lovely." He gestured to Murdoc. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I'm-Ulk!" He felt a tight grip on his shoulder.

"What do you want now, Rus_" He then saw to his surprise that Russ was already walking with the tour group. That could only mean.. No, it couldn't be. He drifted his eyes over to see 2-D at his side,

"Hey, uh, dullard, heh, pretty tight grip you have there."

Despite this odd turn of action, 2-d still had the notable uneasiness in his voice.

"Muds, I'm only gonna say this once" He began, his voice shaking like a bank robber's demands during a first heist. "This is your birthday, remember that. If you want a pleasant birthday, at least be nice to us, d'you understand?"

A bit stunned by the sudden mood change, Murdoc nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah, of course."

"Murdoc-san! C'mon!" Noodle called from the left corridor, "We're gonna show him your room first."

He raced off to join the others , leaving 2-D to stew in possibly pent up anger. He had a sick feeling in his stomach that this wasn't going to be the last of this "new" 2-D.


	5. Chapter 5:the arrival

Chapter 5: the tour

"All right, this is my precious Winnebago. You might want to hold your breath cos of the smell and try not to touch anything. Disinfectant wi-"

"Murdoc, for all our sakes, will you please just show him in?" Noodle asked.

"Wait, wot did you say about disinfectant wipes?" 2-D called.

"Oh, of course." He yanked open the door only to meet the squawking rage of Cortez.

"Augh! Is that a bat?" Hannibal asked, covering his face with his arms.

"No, that's my raven. I'll tell you later." The bassist cleared his throat as he gestured to the front of the van. "As you can see, it's pretty small and rickety. Haven't taken it for a drive in a while, but it's home."

Hannibal then saw photos of famous celebrities with their arms around a drunken , cheerfull Murdoc. "What are these?"

"Ah, those are all my girlfriends."

"Girlfriends?"

"Well, actually he photo-shopped his_" Russell was interrupted by Murdoc's hand clasping over his mouth.

"Er, yeah, we did some stuff I probably shouldn't talk about til after dark."

After concluding there was nothing else to really see, the group traveled across to 2-D's room.

"You still have that bloody Nedpolian Dynomutt poster? The movie came out four years ago, surely you should be over it." Murdoc scoffed.

"It's Napoleon Dynamite and well, so what if I still like it?"

"All right, whatever."

"Xalm down." Hannibal said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Okay, you're right, you're right. I'm just anxious that's all."

"Maybe he's just hungry. Noodle, can you take over while I start the bacon and set out the fruit and such?"

"_Hai,_ Russ, we will join you very soon."

They decided to cut the rest of the tour short, stopping by the music room and studio where Hannibal and 2-D attempted a poorly executed duet on bells and melodica much to the amusement of Noodle and crankiness of Murdoc.

"I forgot we had those bells, we should use them on our next album." Noodle remarked.

"Would you credit me?"

"Maybe, I thought you hated our music." Murdoc grumbled.

"Eh, I'm coming around to it."

In the kitchen, they found Russell reading the paper at the table with a plate of fruit in the center.

"You doing okay, Russ?" Murdoc asked.

"Yeah, I'm putting the fruit out for now, as an appetizer. There's coffee too."

"I'll get the bacon on, if you want." Noodle offered. 

"Thanks, sister."

"So, ah Noodle, what'd you do after El Manana?" 2-D asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Wait, was that that one video where she died? That was the only one I saw." Hannibal muttered.

Noodle threw the shells in the trash as she watched the egg yolks in the pan."Trying to land safely with the parachute was very harrowing. I thought I was going to die after I saw that rafter fall down right in front of me."

He scowled. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Ask Murdoc." Noodle replied, casting a death glare at the bassist.

Russell stepped in. "All right, all right, can we just settle down and have some food?"

Murdoc rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."

"So Hannibal," 2-D asked in between bites of a pear, "what've you been doing all this time?"

Hannibal shrugged. " I was in prison for a while, paid my debt to society by re making hubcaps and giving them to the people I stole from."

The singer arched his eyebrow in confusion. "So you weren't in jail for shagging pandas?"

Russell spit out his coffee. "Where the hell did you hear that from?"

"Muds told me." He yelped as the bassist's giant hand clamped down on his neck at which point he proceeded to repeatedly slam the poor helpless boy's head into the table,

"You lie!" he screeched, "You fucking shit for brains liar!."

Hannibal rose from his chair, gaping in horror. "I probably should be going, this is too much."

Russell just placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. "Don't worry, this happens daily."

Noodle took his hand. "Mr. Niccals, I'll take you out to the lobby until everything settles. I don't think Russell's method of peacekeeping will do much to quell your fear."

He nodded. "Sounds fine, let's juts go."

Hannibal rubbed his temples and sighed. "I don't understand. I thought Murdoc would've been much more mature by now after he had went to therapy like I suggested, but no. He's still the same thirteen year old bastard."

"You don't think his father's abuse had something to do with it?"

He shrugged. "I suppose, but I hoped, hell, prayed, that he'd see the light somehow and actually master some form of compassion. I guess not."

Russell slowly strolled into the room, brushing his hands on his jeans. 2-D trailed behind him, shaking his head wildly to ensure his neck was still stable.

"Everything okay?" Noodle asked.

"Yeah, 2-D's a bit shaken obviously, but he's fine. Murdoc took a bit of roughing up."

"How much roughing up?"

There was a loud howl from the kitchen. "Fuck! There go all my wanking sessions for the next month!"

A/N: Yes, sorry that Hannibal's somewhat boring right now, but trust me, after a few drinks in the next chapter, shit gets real.


	6. Chapter 6: buried  anger

2-D grinned as the cork came off the wine bottle with a loud cartoonish pop. "So Murdoc, you gonna have to piss in a colostomy bag now?"

Murdoc rolled his eyes as he sipped his scotch. "Russ broke my hand, moron."

"I know." He then thrust the bottle in front of Hannibal. "Want some?"

"Thanks. "

"Should you really be drinking with your migraines?" Noodle asked.

He paused, staring out into space like a deer facing car headlights. "Oh dear. Never thought of that."

"That's cos you never think."

"I don't mean to be rude, but can we not fight?" Hannibal asked.

Murdoc downed the rest of his scotch. "Sorry, Hans, but the little bastard's been agitating me all day."

"Muds," Russell growled, "stop it."  
"Well, it's true. Now can you shut up and let me get on with my brother?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, you haven't said a fucking word to me all day." Hannibal sneered.

"But that' all the dullard's fault!"  
"Why is it my fault? Just cos I exist? Just cos I actually care about people? Maybe I'm not smart, but I know not to treat my friends like utter shite."

The bassist threw back his head and laughed. "Friend? You thought we were friends?"

"You know what he means." Russell growled through gritted teeth.

He shook his head. "You lot have been at my throat all day when we're supposed to be celebrating my birthday!"

"We're giving you a hard time," Noodle said slowly, "because you haven't been grateful at all." She then turned to Hannibal. "You should go."

Murdoc rose from his chair and marched to the two giant steel doors. "No! No, stop. Don't leave. You fuckers can have your little bloody garden pity party by yourselves."

"And just where the hell are you going at this hour?" Russell asked.

The Satanist shot a bloodthirsty glare at him. "To the pub!" And with the ringing death knell of Kong's doors, Murdoc was gone.

Russell sighed. "You know, sometimes I think I should've done more than break his nose."

Hannibal glanced at his package on the coffee table. "I guess I'll be selling that."

"What is it?" 2-D asked.

He sighed. "It's personal."


End file.
